Specialis Amor
by Anarchous Drake
Summary: Ichigo remembers his encounters with Renji... Drabble - ish. MM, Spoiler Alert.


Specialis Amor

R

Bleach

Abarai Renji/Kurosaki Ichigo

yaoi, angst, blood, drabble

The first time we'd come face to face, I'd hated him, loathed him with a passion. His cocky smirk made me see red, and his taunts only served to drive me mad with fury. Each wound that he inflicted onto my being, trickling crimson life fluid, merely served to fuel my rage. It was all I could do to lung forward and inflict that nearly critical wound that stunned him into sudden silence before his captain intervened and ran me through with a swift thrust of his sword.

Each day I spent under the watchful eye of Urahara being trained, once again, in the art of the Shinigami I remembered. I felt the lick of raw energy tingle across my flesh, the caress of hot breaths across the back of my neck, just out of reach. Every thought inflamed my urge to fight, to get stronger, the sharp sting of failure still present in my mind.

Over time, however, I became obsessed with besting him, not his superior, which seemed so odd, even then. The curve of those lips haunted my thoughts and the shine of his eyes corrupted any pleasant dream I might have had. Eventually, even these escalated, and I envisioned the smooth yet firm flesh beneath the dark Shinigami robes. I Imagined the feel of his hair sliding through my fingers and finally decided to stop concentrating on such things and turn my thoughts to Rukia. Thoughts of her were little distraction, however.

Finally, we'd entered Soul Society. All the long, hard days of training were to be put to the test in an all out rescue mission. There was no time to have other thoughts.

I met every challenge as it approached with all my energy, refusing to acknowledge defeat, even when being blasted out of the Shinigami city the first time we attempted to enter. Even after my confrontation with Ikkaku, my mind didn't seem to waver. There simply wasn't time. At least, not until he found us.

There he was, magenta, that's the only color I'D call it, hair rustling as he moved. He seemed unusually serious and menacing as he stared me down, though I have no doubt that I shared a similar look. He did stand in my way, afterall. However, all my previous throughts from my training flooded back at the sight of his sleek skin, and my mind wandered, causing me to only be moving on my instincts.

By myself, despite my brief distraction, I was still a formidable opponent. I had grown and I had faith that now, since I had become stronger, I could finally compete with him. Fianlly, I could come up on top. Still, he seemed to always have a way of getting the better of me. I began to lose ground, he hit me far too often for my liking, and after only two of his devastating distance blows, I was bleeding from various wounds, my body weary. Yet I remembered Urahara's teachings at the last minute and moved in for a blow I believed to be the one that would end the fight. I was horribly mistaken.

Even as I moved, he leapt to the side for a swift downward swing, cutting from my shoulder and down over my abdomen, blood spraying from the wound. I was stunned, and landed awakwardly back, almost like a child being pushed around by a bully, back onto my ass, body bleeding and pride stinging. However, as he aimed a killing blow at my head I moved, catching the blade in my bare hand. It was time to stop fooling around.

Swiftly, almost blindingly fast, in fact, I moved, my sould cutter moving in a graceful arc which also delivered a crippling blow to my opponent. He stood for a few moments before he gave an agonized cry, choked by his own blood. I winced, leeshing the urge to approach and brush his now unrestrained bangs from his bloodied face. I didn't want to be his enemy. There was always something there that hinted that we shouldn't have to be. A bond perhaps. Something I may have seen long before him.

He went into the account of his childhood with Rukia, how she had been adopted by the Kuchiki line. His tone was bitter, though his eyes were dry and devoid of the sorrow which I knew was there, eating him up inside. It was almost too much to bear, seeing him so bare and vulnerable before me. I realised that he'd lost everything, including Rukia.

I gasped in surprised as he fisted his hands in the neck of my gi, his look angry before he lowered his gaze, looking as if he had the greatest weight to carry in the world. Perhaps he did, even. His past was far more tragic than my own, even if he fulfilled his dream of being a shinigami. So alone. Always alone.

"Please! You have to save Rukia, Ichigo!" He cried, his eyes clenched shut in pain both physical and emotional.

Briefly, my hand brushed his shoulder before I once again let it fall to my side. I know he felt it, for his body stilled and his head bowed even more. My eyes hooded, my heart wrenching as I watched the man before me, feeling utterly helpless despite the fact that I was the victor. No man won in war.

"...Yeah." I mumured in reply, hoping that would give him some form of consolation.

Wether it did or not, I'll never know, for suddenly he went limp, collapsing to the ground, spent. Slowly I looked up, noting my two companions, but I couldn't offer them a smile. Almost as if I had been existing on the barest amount of energies, which I probably was, my legs finally gave out, and I fell into darkness.

"Renji..." I felt myself murmur, almost as if I was haven't an out of body experience, even though it wasn't possible. 'I'm sorry...' I finished in my subconcious just before my mind was overcome by the abyss of unconciousness.

Fin

Just a little drabble. My heart almost broke at the end of that battle. And I just love these two... sigh.


End file.
